Perspective
by JamiW
Summary: THIS IS NOT PART OF MY SERIES. This is a stand-alone character study following the emotional episode "Amends". It's pre-B/A but they might get there eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: As I mentioned in the summary, this story has absolutely nothing to do with my other series. This is pre-B/A, and it is immediately post-Amends.**

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**Alex POV**

When I finally got home, it was really late.

We'd processed Manny Beltran, taken his confession, and then I'd gotten the hell out of there.

I left Bobby sitting at his desk. He wanted to say something, I could tell, but I just didn't want to talk about it.

Not right then anyway.

As I turned on the lights and locked the door, my mind was racing, but foggy. I kept melding the past together with the present, the dreams with reality.

To put it bluntly, I was fucked up.

And I had no idea how to fix myself.

I had stuffed down the guilt for a long time. Too long really, so now it was bubbling out.

Bubbling…more like erupting.

The only remedy that I could think of was alcohol.

Let me amend that.

The only remedy that I was going to _get _was alcohol.

A nice hard fuck up against the wall might make me forget about things for a little while, but there wasn't any possibility of that in the foreseeable future.

I mean, I could probably go to my neighborhood bar and pick up a willing participant, but I wasn't into that.

I didn't want a nameless, faceless, meaningless romp. I wanted what I was _supposed_ to have had the first time around.

I wanted someone who loved me. Someone who would listen to me and understand me. Someone to share my life with.

_And yeah, that was going to happen._

Vodka it is, then.

I tossed my jacket on the table, and then removed my gun and badge and put them there, too. I stared at my badge for a minute.

_My shield_. I had wanted it for so long, worked so hard for it.

It was my crowning achievement.

It was something Joe never understood:

"_Why do you keep pushing, Alex? You're going to work hard to get what you want, and then you'll get pregnant. You can't be a detective and a mom at the same time."_

"_Maybe I don't want to be a mom."_

"_Don't say that. You know you want kids."_

And just like that, we were done with the discussion. As far as he was concerned.

As far as I was concerned, the door was still wide open. Because I wasn't sure if I wanted to have kids. In fact, I was pretty sure that I didn't.

But until I was sure, I was going to keep taking those little pills I had stashed in the back of my underwear drawer.

And that was what had started it.

I don't know what had him looking in my drawer that night before he left, but whatever the reason, he found my pills.

"_You're taking birth control?" he'd shouted. "Since when?"_

"_Since I was seventeen," I had told him calmly, not rising to take the bait._

"_You've been lying to me all this time?"_

"_I never lied."_

"_You never told me you were still taking those things. What happened to wanting kids?"_

"_You want kids, Joe. I never said I did."_

"_You never said you didn't."_

"_Yes, I did. You just don't listen."_

"_Damn it, Alex! I can't believe you would do this! What else are you lying to me about?"_

"_Joe…"_

"_No, I'm serious. What else?"_

"_Nothing. What are you lying to me about? Are you even going to work tonight? Or are you going to meet up with one of your fuck-buddies?"_

That had stopped him in his tracks.

He'd stood in the doorway of our bedroom and glared at me with such hatred, such disgust, that I wondered who he was.

Did I really even know him? Had I ever really loved him?

Yes. At some point, I had.

But that time had passed.

"_You know what?" he'd yelled. "I'm not doing this right now. I have to go."_

"_Then go. I won't be here when you get back."_

"_Where are you going to go? You got somebody on the side, too?"_

He'd realized his slip as soon as he said it. But he had too much pride to admit to his error.

So instead, he had turned it back onto me. It always came back around to me.

"_You are one cold bitch, you know that Alex?"_

"_Fuck you, Joe. Just get the hell out."_

And then he left.

And he never came back.

Kevin Quinn's murder had brought all of this rushing back.

And Bobby…I knew he wanted to help. I knew he was trying to be a good friend and make sure that justice was done.

But he didn't understand what this was doing to me.

I wasn't upset because I loved Joe so much that I couldn't bear the loss. I was upset because I felt so overwhelmingly guilty.

Joe _hadn't _been going to work that night. But he had caught up with Quinn because they were friends. Joe was pissed off at me and he wanted to vent.

Quinn had talked him into working the drug buy that had ultimately taken his life.

I tore my gaze away from my badge and wandered into the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since this morning, but I wasn't hungry.

I took a large glass from the cabinet. It wasn't a liquor-drinking glass. It was damn near a pitcher, really. But it would save me the steps of coming back for a refill. At least, not as often anyway.

I put three ice cubes in the bottom and then filled it to the brim with Smirnoff's silver-label vodka.

I kicked off my shoes and carried the glass into the living room. As soon as I sat on the couch, I heard a soft knock on the door.

Of course, I knew who it was. Somewhere on the inside, I'd been half-expecting him.

Not because he made it a habit of coming over, especially not in the wee hours of the morning.

But because he knew I was off. He knew I was struggling.

_Maybe I wouldn't need the vodka after all_.

And then I laughed at my own ridiculousness.

This was _Bobby_. There would be no sex tonight. He didn't think of me that way.

So I took a large swig from the glass, closing my eyes for a second as the liquid forged a burning path down my throat.

And then I opened the door.

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Bobby POV

I could smell the vodka as soon as she opened the door. Although it's not like she was trying to hide it. She held the glass in the same hand that she used to wave me into her apartment.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I asked uncertainly.

I wasn't in the habit of coming to my partner's home, especially not at this hour and not unannounced.

But she was hurting, and I felt partly responsible.

"Yeah, I was having a party," she replied sarcastically. I stood still in the doorway and waited for her to look at me.

"Come in, Bobby," she said on a long-suffering sigh. "You want something to drink?"

"Looks like you've got enough there to share," I teased, searching desperately for some solid footing. I was in completely uncharted territory here.

Usually I was the basket case and she was the rock.

She merely raised an eyebrow at me and then closed the door and locked it behind me.

I still wasn't sure what to do, so I waited as she went into the kitchen and poured me an equally large glass of vodka.

"Did you drive over here?" she asked when she handed me the drink.

"Yes."

"If you finish that, you're sleeping on the couch," she stated. She went into her living room and I followed hesitantly.

She was different and I couldn't put my finger on it.

But I'd been her partner for a long damn time, and while I had been known to partake of a few drinks at her house, never once had she suggested that I sleep on her couch. Or anywhere in her home for that matter.

This was New York. There were cabs everywhere you looked.

But I wasn't about to argue with her.

"Okay," I agreed.

She sat on the couch and I took a seat in a chair off to the right. She leaned back, putting her feet up on the coffee table, and took a long sip.

"What do you want, Bobby?"

"I wanted to see if you're okay."

"You wanted to see if I was pissed at you," she countered. Alex always did cut straight through the bullshit.

I took a drink to stall my reply.

"Are you?" I asked at last.

She tilted her head and looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. And maybe she was.

I was certainly seeing a different side of her.

She brushed her hair from her forehead and continued to stare. I started to squirm a little under the scrutiny.

And she still hadn't answered, which didn't bode well for me.

"No," she said. I let out a breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's to talk about?"

"Alex…"

"That's the second time you've called me Alex this week," she stated suddenly. "Why?"

Her question threw me.

"Um…I…"

"It's not a hard question."

"It is actually," I said. "It's…well, I know you were having a hard time and normally I try to keep things completely professional between us, but I thought that maybe this week you needed a friend more than you needed a partner."

There. That came out right. I think. I don't know, because she's still just _watching_ me.

And I can't read her. She's suddenly a person that I don't really know. She's not a detective. She's not my partner. She's a woman.

But she's a sad, beautiful woman who had to come home to an empty apartment with nothing but memories and vodka.

I didn't want her to be that lonely woman.

"What if I need both?" she asked quietly.

"I can be both."

She nodded and took another drink.

"What else can you be?"

_What?_ Was she…flirting with me? No, there was no tease to her voice. She was being serious. My heart started thudding hard in my chest.

My mind was racing in so many directions that I had no idea what to say.

She kept staring at me as she brought her drink to her mouth. I watched as she took a sip and then pulled the glass away and licked the moisture from her lips.

I noticed that she had nearly finished her drink, although mine sat mostly untouched. I needed a clear head because I felt as though I was walking through a minefield.

"I'm sorry," I told her, deciding to move the conversation forward and just ignore her last question.

"Why are you sorry?"

"About re-opening the case without telling you first. I'm sorry that we had to dredge up painful memories. I'm sorry that it hurt you."

"Bobby," she said on a sigh, shifting again so that now she was looking at the ceiling.

I had been nervous under her gaze, but now that she'd moved it, I missed the connection.

"I don't know what you're thinking," I admitted finally when she continued to stare into space. "I don't know how to make it better."

"Why do you want to?"

It hurt that she would ask me that. She should know.

_How would she know_, I argued with myself. _You've never given her any indication_.

But I had to be careful. Her wounds had been re-opened right along with that case.

Now was not the time for confessions of love.

Even though it would be true. I loved her desperately.

But I couldn't say anything, not tonight. She was vulnerable right now.

And of course, that was a convenient excuse, because deep down, I knew damn well that I didn't have the balls for it.

Because as long as I'd loved her, I'd never once seriously considered sharing that little piece of information with her.

It was better to stay the way we were than to have her be uncomfortable around me because my feelings weren't reciprocated.

"Why would I want to make it better? Because we're friends. That's what friends do."

She seemed slightly disappointed in my reply. She finished off the last of her drink and rose on unsteady feet.

"I'll be back," she told me as she went to the kitchen.

I got up and followed her. I didn't want her to drink any more.

"Alex," I tried again. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in your head."

She barked out a humorless laugh.

"The great Bobby Goren needs me to tell him what I'm thinking."

I took the bottle from her hand as she tilted it to refill her glass. She didn't fight me. Instead she put her hands flat on the counter and dropped her head.

"It's my fault," she said quietly.

"What's your fault?"

"Joe. We had a fight...the night he was killed. I…I was mad at him and I said some things and…he wasn't even supposed to be at work that night. He went just to get away from me."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Both POV's cover roughly the same time period, so when it switches to Bobby, it pretty much starts over again.**

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**Alex POV**

For the first few seconds after the words left my mouth, I felt relief. I had never told anyone about the fight.

Kevin Quinn had never mentioned it, although for the first few days after Joe's death, he gave me knowing, accusatory looks. And then, he just avoided me altogether.

So I'd never said a word. To anyone. Not to my sister, not to my dad, no one.

Not even Kevin Mulrooney.

I had dated him, for lack of better word, fairly soon after Joe's death. He was someone to talk to, and at that time, I had been missing the companionship more than anything.

I had even considered sleeping with him. I wanted to get over that hump of being with someone else after losing my husband. But it didn't happen, and later I was glad about that. I didn't really have any feelings for him. I had mostly just been using him as a substitute and that wouldn't have been fair to either one of us.

So while I had told Kevin lots of things, I never told him that. It was just too personal.

And now I had shared it with Bobby.

So after the first few moments of feeling like a weight was lifted, I then shifted to feeling panicked.

_What would he think of me now? Would he ever look at me the same again? Would he trust me as his partner when I hadn't even been able to keep my husband safe?_

I was afraid to look at him, so I kept my focus on the countertop.

"Alex," he said quietly.

I still didn't look, so he settled a hand on my back. It felt strange resting there, between my shoulder blades. He had touched me from time to time, but it was always fleeting.

Not this time. He began moving his hand in slow circles.

"Alex, you know it's not your fault."

_What?_ How could he say that?

I finally got up the nerve to look at him, and damn it, as I tilted my head toward his, the tears escaped.

I had been trying to hold them in, but I had failed.

_Just like I failed Joe_.

If he noticed my tears, he didn't comment. _If _he noticed…please. Of _course_ he noticed.

But still, he didn't say anything. Instead he used his steadying, comforting hand that was still on my back to guide me towards him.

I hesitated, knowing that if I went into his arms, I was going to fall apart.

I had been holding it together for a long time, but everything was out in the open now. Everything was fresh and new, as though it had happened yesterday. And I didn't have the strength to keep it inside anymore.

So I had to take the chance that if I fell apart, Bobby would help put me back together again.

I went into his arms.

The first thing I noticed was how natural it felt being held by him. He used the perfect amount of pressure and kept me snug up against him. It felt like being in a warm blanket. And it felt like we'd been doing it for years.

The second thing I noticed was his smell. I mean, he always smelled nice. Whatever kind of cologne or aftershave he chose to use on any given day, it always had a pleasant scent. And even though he tended to alternate between a few different ones, I liked them all equally and found myself paying particular attention each day just to see which one it would be.

But the thing I noticed today was that this close up, the scent was altered. It was a blend of many things: his soap, his laundry detergent, his cologne, his body scent in general. It was a heady combination and I had a feeling that after today, I wouldn't be happy with the arm's length version. I would need the full-on scent.

The third thing I noticed was that he wasn't reluctant to hold me. And I was slightly embarrassed of myself for noticing the other two things first. Because this was important. This had been my biggest concern only a moment ago after spouting out my confession.

Did it mean, since he was willingly holding me, that he didn't think bad of me?

Or was he simply feeling sorry for me, and was, right this minute, biding his time and plotting his escape?

_Did it matter_?

It did, but not right now. At this moment, I could only swallow my pride and revel in the feel of his comforting arms. I would take it while I could get it, because tonight I really needed it.

And if tomorrow he couldn't look me in the eye anymore, I would deal with it then.

Maybe by then my armor would be back in place because right now it was severely cracked.

For quite a few long minutes, we didn't move from the spot in the kitchen. But I was still crying and he was still soothing me, running his hand along my back and into my hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair. "I'm so sorry."

That threw me for a second. _He was sorry_? Even by Bobby standards, it was tough to come up with a reason of how this could be his fault.

He must have sensed my question even though it never went further than the inside of my brain.

"I'm sorry you lost your husband. I'm sorry it was after a fight. And I'm so sorry that I caused you so much pain by making you re-live it."

"It needed to happen," I told him. And I didn't realize how true that statement was until the words left my mouth.

_It needed to happen_.

"I've been living with the guilt for too long. It's kept me from being able to move on. It's kept me from…other relationships."

"What could you possibly have to feel guilty about? Fight or no fight, it wasn't your fault he was killed. You have to know that."

My final words to Joe reverberated in my head.

_Fuck you, Joe. Just get the hell out._

And yet when we'd gotten married, I loved him. I thought I wanted to spend my life with him. But that's what we were reduced to.

So how could I trust my judgment again?

_What if someday I were to say that to Bobby, and then he never made it home_?

And then I realized the ludicrousness of that thought.

Bobby and I were not a couple, we were partners. It wasn't the same thing.

And while I might harbor some secret feelings for him, nothing was ever going to happen between us.

Despite the fact that he was holding me now, I knew it didn't mean anything. It was only out of pity. I had thrown him for a loop with my show of female emotions and he didn't know what to do with me.

I could hear his heart slamming in his chest. He was nervous because he was afraid of what I might do next. I realized that I was taking advantage of his sense of chivalry and I decided to let him off the hook.

I took a step back from him and gave him a watery smile.

"Give me a minute, and then we'll talk," I said. He looked at me worriedly, so I added, "I promise."

And I meant it. I was going to get this off of my chest once and for all, and let the chips fall where they may.

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Bobby POV

At first, I had been afraid to touch Alex.

She needed it. Even I could see that.

But I was afraid that once I touched her, I'd never want to stop.

But of course, that was selfish. I couldn't deny her the comfort she so desperately needed just because of my own feelings.

I could be the friend she needed. I could be her support system.

In all honesty, I would be any damn thing she wanted because it was tearing me apart to see her so wracked with guilt. Especially knowing that I was responsible for the latest onslaught.

So I put my hand on her back.

Just a gentle touch.

And then she looked at me with tears running down her face, and I felt something break inside of me.

I had no doubt that she would beat herself up for letting me see her emotions get the best of her. She was going to pile that on top of what she was already feeling about Joe.

So I did the only thing I could do. I brought her into my arms and held on tight.

I wanted her to know that it was okay to cry in front of me. I wasn't going to think any less of her.

In fact, the idea that she was sharing her pain with me was humbling. She had crossed the stumbling block that always managed to trip me up. She was willing to open up to me. It was something I always craved to do but somehow let my fear get the best of me.

I always worried if the next words out of my mouth would be the thing that sent her running away from me.

And as I held her, quietly sobbing in my arms, I realized something else.

I had been holding her back.

Not in the professional sense. I was past that. I had felt that for a brief period of time, but I also knew that Alex didn't do anything she didn't want to do.

If she wanted a new partner, she'd have asked.

_She did ask_.

And thankfully, then she'd rescinded, so I was confident in the knowledge that she valued our partnership.

But no, I was holding her back personally.

I was monopolizing her time, even the off hours.

I called her at all hours of the night, supposedly to bounce theories off of her but in actuality, I simply wanted to hear her voice.

I – secretly gleefully – ruined dates due to call-outs that may or may not have been truly necessary.

In short, I was filling the spot of a significant other without giving her the emotional benefit. I was keeping my distance.

And I was keeping her from having a life.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Once the words escaped, I knew I shouldn't have said them. What was I going to say now?

_I'm sorry I won't let you have a life, but I can't possibly ever let you be with anyone else because by the way, I love you too much to let that happen, even though I know you don't love me back?_

Yeah, that's great, Goren. Talk about selfish.

I needed to push those thoughts out of my head. I needed to be here in the moment, for Alex. I needed to get her to tell me everything that had happened with Joe so that maybe, just maybe, she could start the healing process that she had so obviously skipped over the first time around.

"I'm sorry you lost your husband. I'm sorry it was after a fight. And I'm so sorry that I caused you so much pain by making you re-live it."

"It needed to happen," she replied.

I felt tremendous relief that she didn't seem to blame me for looking into Joe's case.

That day she'd come into the conference room to find me looking through his case file…well, that was a day I won't soon forget.

And while I knew I should've mentioned it beforehand, I also assumed that she would be interested in opening the case again, especially in light of the recent events.

Alex was a smart detective, and she never took shortcuts. She wanted the right person in jail, period, even if it meant more time, more interviews, more work.

So she threw me a little that day.

She didn't want to consider that the detectives were wrong the first time around. She didn't want to think that the wrong man was in jail.

I should've known then that there was more going on here, but I missed it.

But not today. Today it finally hit me.

And I wasn't going to let her shove her emotions back underground. I was going to stay with her and be her friend and listen. We'd come too far to turn back now.

I could only pray that she agreed with me. And it was a good sign that she hadn't kicked me out for hugging her. In fact, it had seemed to help a little, and she wasn't in any hurry to pull away.

_And her hair smelled really good_.

That thought triggered a flood of other senses, all equally inappropriate…like the way her body fit perfectly against mine, like the softness of her hair…my heart started to pound and I frantically scrambled to think about something else because the last thing in the world she needed was for me to get aroused when I was supposed to be comforting her.

And then she stepped away from me. I held my breath for a second, but then she asked me to give her a minute.

And as I looked at her face, streaked with tears, I worried whether I would be enough. Would I be able to offer the comfort she needed? Would I say the right things?

"I promise," she added, assuring me that we would talk.

She seemed to have faith in me. So maybe I needed to believe in myself.

I had to believe, at least just this once, that I could be exactly what she needed.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

******A/N: Same as last chapter - both POV's cover roughly the same time period, so when it switches to Bobby, it starts over again.**

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Alex POV

I went to the bathroom, leaving Bobby in the kitchen.

He seemed a little shell-shocked, and I could understand that. It was a rare thing for him to see me without my shields in place, and this time was the worst one yet. I bet he'd had no idea what a mess I am on the inside.

_And on the outside_, I mused as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I washed my face and took a few deep cleansing breaths, and then because I was still wearing my work clothes, I slipped into my bedroom to change. I put on a pair of track pants and a tank top and then went down the hall.

Bobby had moved into the living room, and I saw two steaming cups sitting on the coffee table. Apparently I'd been gone longer than I'd realized if he'd had time to make coffee. But I liked the idea that he was comfortable enough here to do so.

He was sitting on the couch this time, rather than in the chair on the other side of the room. I noticed he had taken off his jacket and tie and had loosened the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

I hesitated in the living room doorway and conducted a mental debate about where I should sit. He must have heard me coming because it was then that he looked up at me.

I felt a thrill race through me at the realization that his eyes were doing a slow perusal of me from head to toe.

_This is Bobby_, I reminded myself. _Don't start imagining things that aren't there_.

I decided to sit on the couch. I wanted his soothing proximity, so I sat down fairly close. Not touching, of course, but still…close. He reached for the cups and grabbed them both, and then turned to give me one.

"Thanks," I told him softly. My voice was still post-breakdown raspy.

"No problem," he assured me. And then he was quiet. He was waiting for me to talk. But when I still didn't say anything, he added, "You're going to try to play this off, aren't you?"

I instantly felt bad. I had been considering giving him the whole _I'm fine, really, you just caught me at a bad moment_ speech. I had been considering breaking my promise.

But Bobby knows me. He knows me better than anyone, ever.

And while he may never love me in quite the manner that I love him, I did know that he loved me. He valued me as a friend. So I was going to respect that friendship, and make good on my word.

I took a sip of the hot coffee. I would've rather had another pint of vodka for its fortifying value, but I still had enough of it in me to be able to get through this conversation.

"I think maybe you have a misconception about Joe," I began. "And I'm sure it's my fault."

He shifted on the couch, bringing one leg up onto the cushion so that he could sit sideways to look at me. The change brought his knee up against my thigh.

_When did I start noticing every little touch_, I wondered.

"A misconception," he repeated. His eyes bore into mine as he watched me with curiosity.

I wanted to look away, to escape the intensity, but I didn't.

I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I didn't.

I wanted to touch the scruffy stubble that had sprouted up along his jaw line, but I didn't.

And more than anything, I was tired of wanting things and not getting them.

I leaned forward and set my coffee down on the table. As I sat back, pulling my leg up onto the couch, mirroring his position, I made a crucial error.

I looked at his lips. And, okay, so I didn't just look. It was more like I fixated on his lips.

And I'm going to blame it on the vodka.

Because the more I looked at his mouth, the harder it was for me to look away.

I wanted to kiss him.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it.

And have I mentioned that I'm tired of not getting what I want?

But still, I behaved myself.

I reluctantly forced myself to look into his eyes again. And when I did, I was surprised to see something different lurking amongst the deep brown depths.

It was something that I might interpret as reciprocal interest.

And just a hint of the barest possibility that maybe, just maybe he thought of me as something more than his partner.

Maybe it was plausible that he recognized that I was a woman and not just a cop.

And that was what prompted me to do it. In very uncharacteristic fashion, I threw caution to the wind.

I kissed him.

_Of all the stupid things to do_…

I just leaned right over and it was such a perfect first kiss…slow, lingering, innocent, tender…

I eventually heard the censor in my head that was screaming _don't do it_, but not until I was about five seconds into the kiss. After a few more seconds, I forced myself to pull back.

Terrified that this would scare him away, I opened my eyes cautiously to look at him.

His eyes were still closed, as though he were savoring the moment. His lips were full from the gentle assault of my mouth against his.

_Now what_?

Now I wanted to throw him back on the couch and have my way with him. But that wasn't going to happen.

Because although he wasn't running away from me, he also hadn't grabbed me and returned the kiss. He had simply sat still and let it happen.

As I watched, he slowly opened his eyes and the softness in them touched my heart.

"Alex," he said quietly, sadly.

_Great, the gentle let-down_.

"I'm sorry," I pre-empted. I couldn't bear it if he inserted the typical _I only think of you as a friend _dialogue here. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay. We can…um…just uh…forget about it."

_Forget about it_? Not fucking likely.

But I couldn't risk losing him either, so I would pretend, just like I did with everything else.

"I'm sorry," I said again, shaking my head and willing myself to act as though it were no big deal. I reached back to get my cup of coffee, but Bobby put his hand on my arm.

"Don't be sorry," he said, almost shyly. "I'd hate to think it was so bad that you'd be sorry for it."

_He was afraid I thought it was bad?_

"It wasn't bad," I assured him. "It was…" I stopped myself from saying something I shouldn't.

_It was hopeful. _

_It was promising_.

_It was even better than I'd imagined_.

"I just…I shouldn't have…sprung that on you," I said instead.

"It's okay. I…you need…we need to talk. I don't want to skip ahead."

His face flushed with his last words, as though maybe he hadn't intended to say them out loud.

I decided not to call him out on that just yet. He was right. We needed to talk.

And then maybe we'd skip ahead.

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Bobby POV

I ditched the jacket and tie while I made coffee. I even undid a couple of buttons just so that I could breathe easier.

I started to take off my shoes, but then I was afraid that would make me seem presumptuous. We had just been hugging in her kitchen. If she came back to find me a little too comfortable on her couch, it might send the wrong signal.

Okay, it would actually be the right signal, but I just couldn't tell her that. Not yet.

But I was starting to think that maybe she thought about me differently than I had realized. Maybe she was seeing me as more than a cop. Maybe she was seeing me as a man.

_Wishful thinking_, I chastised myself.

I eased back against the cushions and then I heard her soft footfalls in the hall.

I turned to look at her and all rational thought flew from my brain.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

I was sure that she didn't think so. Her make-up was long gone, and her hair was kind of messy…messy from where I'd run my fingers through it. That thought sent a shot of arousal through me that I was completely unprepared for.

I let my eyes wander down her small frame, taking in the snug white tank top and the blue track pants. Her feet were bare. Funny, I'd been worried that my shoeless feet would send the wrong signal.

But seeing her like this, comfortable and unguarded…it was tearing my insides apart. This was where I wanted to be. Every night from here on out.

I wanted to see her in her down-time clothes…I wanted to see her without make-up…I wanted to be responsible for her hair being in disarray.

I realized that she was watching me watch her, and I forced myself to meet her eyes. She came into the room and sat down on the couch next to me.

_Right _next to me.

In order to get a handle on...burgeoning issues, I started running through last year's New York crime statistics in my head.

Murders…596.

Rapes…1,071.

Okay. Things were…going back to normal.

"Thanks," she told me as she reached for her coffee. Her earlier crying had caused her voice to sound like something straight out of a porn movie, all low and husky.

Robberies…23,511.

Aggravated assaults…26,908.

"No problem," I said at last.

One glance at her told me what I needed to know. She was going to try to pretend like everything was fine. But I wasn't going to come this far only to back down now.

"You're going to try to play this off, aren't you?"

I watched the emotions play across her face. She had wanted to, but she also wasn't going to let me down.

She took a sip of her coffee and then met my gaze.

"I think maybe you have a misconception about Joe," she said. "And I'm sure it's my fault."

_A misconception? About her husband_?

I wasn't sure where she was going. They were married. She loved him and then they had a fight and then he was killed. He was taken away from her while still in the prime of his life. It was a tragedy.

She didn't elaborate, so I tried to be encouraging.

"A misconception," I repeated.

We maintained eye contact for awhile. I was trying to see inside her mind and she was…well, I'm not sure what she was doing. I was too busy trying to read her. She seemed more relaxed after her crying jag. That was a good thing, but we still needed to get to the root of the issue.

She broke our gaze as she leaned forward to set her mug on the coffee table. I couldn't help but notice how her tank top rode up slightly in the back, exposing just a thin strip of skin above the waistband of her pants.

She sat back and turned sideways to look at me again, although she was still quiet. And then I noticed her gaze drop.

She was looking at my mouth.

And she was doing it in such a way that had me holding my breath.

And once again, rehashing statistics.

_Holy Mary Mother of God, did she know what she was doing to me_?

I don't think so.

If she did, she wouldn't be doing it right now. Not when I was supposed to be offering a shoulder to cry on.

But because she was, all I wanted to do was push her back on the couch and…

Damn. She'd looked into my eyes again, and I don't think I hid my feelings fast enough. She tilted her head a little, and a questioning look passed over her face.

And then in the next second, while I was on to larcenies and grand thefts, she leaned over and kissed me.

It was just a soft press of lips, a simple and chaste action, and yet my mind kicked into overdrive.

_She's kissing me! _

_What does this mean? _

_What should I do? _

_We can't be doing this!_

It was my last thought that kept me from initiating any further action. She was hurting.

She was thinking about Joe. That's why she kissed me. She was remembering what she had with him, and she was projecting it onto me.

A perfectly understandable response, and yet…I didn't want to face that reality.

Because to me, that kiss had been a taste of heaven. And as soon as it was over, I knew I would have nothing but my memory.

So, even as she pulled back, I stayed still and kept my eyes closed.

_Commit it all; don't forget a thing_, I told myself. I wanted perfect recall.

After a moment, I forced myself to open my eyes. She was watching me with trepidation.

"Alex," I said.

So many different thoughts were storming my brain that I couldn't decide where to start. But I didn't need to.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly.

It broke my heart to know that she realized she'd made a mistake.

"I shouldn't have done that," she added.

She didn't want me. She wanted her dead husband. But I couldn't let her feel bad about that. I wasn't about to lose her as a friend just because she regretted her actions.

"It's okay. We can…um…just uh…forget about it."

"I'm sorry," she said again, shaking her head and reaching for her cup of coffee.

I had to lighten the mood. I had to say something that would get us out of this awkward situation. I put my hand on her arm.

"Don't be sorry," I said.

_Please, God, don't be sorry. Hopefully the kiss had _some_ redeeming qualities… _

"I'd hate to think it was so bad that you'd be sorry for it," I teased gently.

"It wasn't bad," she replied. And she smiled at me. "It was…"

She hesitated, and I found myself trying to fill in the blanks.

_Enticing?_

_Arousing?_

_Hopeful?_

"I just…I shouldn't have…sprung that on you," she said. That didn't sound completely like regret.

I started to breathe again.

"It's okay," I told her. "I…you need…we need to talk. I don't want to skip ahead."

I realized the implication of my words as soon as they left my mouth, and I felt the heat creep up my face.

_Skip ahead_.

As though we had somewhere to skip ahead to.

But she just gave me a smile - a lovely, expressive, cat-ate-the-canary kind of smile.

"Okay then," she said. "Let's talk about Joe."

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**********A/N: Same as last chapter - both POV's cover roughly the same time period, so when it switches to Bobby, it starts over again. Are you sensing a pattern here? **

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Alex POV

"I'm not sure where to start," I admitted.

I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

_I kissed Bobby_.

And now we were talking as though nothing had happened.

But it did happen, and I knew I'd be replaying the event in my head on a regular basis.

"Start at the beginning," he replied easily.

And then he did something that caught me completely off guard. He held out his arm, offering for me to slip under it and lean against him.

"Maybe it'll be easier for you to talk if I'm not staring at you," he said with a small smile.

He looked unsure and I couldn't decide if he was unsure about wanting me to sit so close, or if he was unsure as to whether or not I'd accept.

I hoped it was the latter.

I scooted right up next to him, pressing my thigh tightly against his, and he set him arm gently across my shoulders.

"Better?" he asked in a low voice. _So much better_, I thought. I could just sit here like this all night. His fingers were brushing against the bare skin of my upper arms…

"So when did you meet him?" _Huh?_ Oh yeah. Joe.

"Um…I was in my senior year of college. He'd just graduated the year before and was about to go into the academy."

"Ah, so you like older men," he commented lightly. I loved that he was trying to make this easier on me.

"I was um…actually I was dating a friend of his. My boyfriend at the time told me about Joe, said that he couldn't get a date to this concert and he asked if I could bring one of my friends so that we could double-date."

"And you ditched your boyfriend to go off with Joe?" he asked in surprise. I had to smile. No matter how things had ended, that was a good memory.

"Yeah," I laughed. "We went to this bar after the concert, and I stepped outside to…um…to uh…"

"You smoked, didn't you?"

"I was in a rebellious phase," I admitted.

"Alex…I don't even know what to say to that. Except that you'd better not give me a hard time the next time I backslide."

"I don't _still_ smoke," I insisted. "And it was a short-lived phase. I think it lasted about a month."

"Still…"

"Anyway," I said, still smiling from his teasing.

I loved that it was so easy to talk to him.

And he was _listening_.

"Joe came outside with me, and then we just never went back in."

"You left the others inside without saying anything?"

"Yeah. I know," I said. "We got engaged pretty quickly. Within a month. But we waited until after I got out of the academy before we actually got married."

"You knew in a month that you wanted to marry him?"

"I was twenty-two," I replied with a shrug. "My sister was already engaged. My older brother was married with a baby on the way. I just thought that was the natural progression. Here was this nice guy who was a lot of fun…and he was a cop. So when he asked, I said yes."

I thought back to that night he proposed. What would've happened if I'd said no? How much different would my life be right now? It was impossible to know. And I couldn't say that I regretted the entire marriage. It hadn't been all bad. In fact, it had been pretty comfortable up until the last year.

Bobby was quiet, patiently waiting for me to continue my story. But I quit thinking about Joe for a minute so that I could enjoy the moment.

The living room was dimly lit. I was snuggled securely against Bobby's side where I could once again smell his stimulating scent, and his fingers were still gently stroking my arm. I could feel his breath across the top of my head. _He must be leaning in pretty close_. That thought sent a wave of pleasure through me.

And yet at the same time, I was fairly certain that he was just playing the role of a good friend. I found it hard to believe that he harbored any feelings for me.

I'd seen his type and I wasn't it.

Not to mention the fact that he'd never outwardly shown any signs of interest.

And why was I suddenly so obsessed with this tonight? I mean, I've felt this way about him for quite some time. I was used to the feelings and I was used to keeping them tucked away. Why were they fighting so hard to come out of the box tonight?

"Alex," he whispered as though he was afraid I'd gone to sleep.

"Sorry. I'm awake," I told him. "I was just…thinking."

"Take your time," he said. "I know this is hard for you."

And of course he would assume that I was thinking about Joe, when I'd actually been thinking about him.

I really needed to clear the air.

But then what would that do to us? Once he knew the truth about Joe, what would he think of me?

_You are one cold bitch, you know that Alex?_

Joe's last words to me.

Were they true? _Was _I a cold bitch?

I had been secretly taking birth control pills when I knew he wanted a family. What did that say about me?

I'm not sure, but for some reason, it was suddenly extremely important for me to get Bobby's opinion on the matter.

"I was taking birth control pills," I blurted out.

"In college?" he asked, obviously confused about my confession.

"Well, before then, but yes. In college. And after."

"While you were married."

"Right."

"And…he wanted you to stop?" he guessed.

"He thought I _had_ stopped," I corrected. And then I held my breath. I tuned into every part of his body that was touching mine to feel for any changes. Was he disappointed in me?

"You weren't ready to have kids," he stated simply. "That's understandable. You were just getting started with the department."

"Bobby, I kept taking them without telling him," I clarified.

I felt him hold his breath in for a moment and then he let it out slowly. _Here it comes_.

"Did you try to tell him you weren't ready?"

"He just kept saying how great it would be to have three or four kids, and I could stay at home with them, or maybe work part-time somewhere…"

"He didn't understand how important your career was to you."

"No."

"So he didn't listen to you," he said sadly. Of course Bobby would get it.

"He rarely did," I agreed.

"Is that what the fight was about? That last night?"

"Partly. That's what started it that night, anyway. He found the pills. And I was already upset with him, too because he was…um…he was…seeing someone. On the side. He was um…having a um….an affair."

"Alex," he said softly, pulling me even closer to him. "I'm so sorry."

I slid my hand across his chest, holding it over his heart. I could feel the steady beats and I focused on them for a minute as I geared up to finish my story.

"He yelled at me, said I'd been lying to him. That set me off because I knew that he'd been lying to me for quite awhile. Things were said, things that neither of us got the chance to take back."

"Were you guys fighting a lot?"

"Just for the last year. I think…I was never sure, but I think that maybe he was…you know he was working Narcotics, right?"

"You think he was into drugs?"

"I never found any. And he didn't have any in his system when he was killed. But he changed. That last year, things were different. _He_ was different. That was when the affairs started, and he would go off on me for no reason. That was when I stopped being happy."

"Go off on you. Did he ever hit you?"

"No, nothing like that. He just liked to yell, and twist things so that they were always my fault."

I hesitated, noticing that his heart was beating faster. _What was he thinking_?

"You were afraid we would find something when the investigation was re-opened. You thought maybe he was dirty?"

"No. I don't think so anyway. I was afraid it would come out that he shouldn't have been there that night. And then you would ask me about it, and I'd have to tell you. I didn't want you to know that I drove him to it."

"It was his choice to go," he replied quietly. "You're not responsible for his choices. If he had stayed home to talk to you instead of leaving…"

"He called me a cold bitch. I told him to get the hell out."

That was us in a nutshell.

And it was sad that the final year overshadowed the first four good ones.

"A cop getting killed like that…it got a lot of attention," I continued. "He was idealized and suddenly everyone talked about us like we had this storybook marriage. I let everyone believe it because I didn't want to smear his image. We did have a good marriage for awhile. And then we didn't, but I didn't think that was anyone's business, so I never said anything."

"There's nothing wrong with that. You respected his memory. You know that what he'd turned into wasn't really him. And you also know that you're not at fault for what happened to him after he walked out the door."

"Yeah. Maybe. But see, that night…I made a call," I admitted.

"A call?"

"That's been my dirty little secret. I called a lawyer as soon as he left. I was going to divorce him."

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Bobby POV

We were finally going to get to the crux of the issue.

I wasn't sure I was ready. My lips were still tingling from the feel of her mouth on mine and I wanted to relish that for a while longer.

But I'd also been curious about Joe for a long time. I wanted to know. And yet I dreaded knowing.

Because if she told me that she'd never again love any man the way she loved Joe…well, I'm not sure if I'd recover from that.

And although I knew that I may never have the nerve to actually admit my feelings, at least right now I could still delude myself with the notion that I might have a shot with her.

But if she said something like that…something that suggested she'd given up the hope of finding someone as good as he was…well, not only would that be devastating to me, but also very sad for her.

She was still young. And she was an amazing person with so many wonderful qualities.

And I was getting way off track here.

"I'm not sure where to start," she said shakily after we'd been sitting for a few moments in silence.

I watched her as she spoke. _She kissed me with those lips_, I thought.

I was having trouble wrapping my head around that kiss. Whatever her reason for doing it, it was still something that I never thought would happen.

I wondered what my odds were of having it happen again.

But first things first.

"Start at the beginning," I told her.

She looked hesitant and I realized that maybe I was making her nervous. I _had_ been staring at her fairly intently. Of course, I'd been thinking about the kiss, but she probably didn't know that.

And I didn't want her to feel like she was in an interrogation room. We were supposed to be friends. What would a friend do right now?

I wasn't sure. I didn't really have female friends, but I took a chance and held out my arm, offering for her to slip under it.

"Maybe it'll be easier for you to talk if I'm not staring at you," I said, doing my best to put on a smile to hide my nerves.

We were making progress in leaps and bounds tonight. She'd cried. We'd hugged. We'd been talking.

And now…now she scooted up close to me and I settled my arm down onto her shoulders.

My hand hit bare skin and I almost couldn't breathe. I sure as hell couldn't stop my fingers from exploring the softness of her arm.

"Better?" I asked, immediately embarrassed by the intimate timbre of my voice. I hadn't meant for it to come out like that. _Quick, say something_!

"So when did you meet him?"

And so then she told me about him.

I was somewhat surprised to hear about her little rebellions, but I loved the image of a wild Eames that I was able to conjure up in my head. I would have loved to have known her then. She probably wouldn't have given me the time of day, but still…

And then she really caught my attention.

"You knew in a month that you wanted to marry him?" I asked. And that was when I knew for sure that I was royally screwed.

I'd been her partner for seven years and we had only just kissed, barely, for the first time tonight.

After only four weeks with Joe, she'd known that she wanted to spend her life with him.

"I was twenty-two," she replied with a shrug. "My sister was already engaged. My older brother was married with a baby on the way. I just thought that was the natural progression. Here was this nice guy who was a lot of fun…and he was a cop. So when he asked, I said yes."

_A nice guy who was a lot of fun_. And a cop.

I was two out of three. I hadn't quite figured out the _fun_ part of life yet.

Besides, I'd seen pictures of Joe. He looked absolutely nothing like me. So that was her type, and I wasn't it.

I needed to come to terms with the fact that I was never going to have her. Not like I wanted. She was comfortable being my friend, but nothing more.

But that didn't stop me from holding her close. I let my head rest next to hers so that I could smell her shampoo with every breath. She might not love me in the sense that I loved her, but still…I knew she loved me.

I noticed that she leaned more heavily into me and her breathing was steady. I wondered if maybe she'd fallen asleep. _That wouldn't be so bad_, I thought. I could just hold her like this all night.

Of course, then we'd still have to talk about Joe tomorrow, but that was okay. I'd have tonight.

"Alex," I whispered.

"Sorry. I'm awake," she replied. "I was just…thinking."

"Take your time," I offered. "I know this is hard for you."

And it undoubtedly was. She was remembering everything she'd had with her husband. She had to deal with the fact that their last moments together were spent in an argument. That had to be painful, thinking of all of the things she wished she'd said instead of words of anger.

"I was taking birth control pills," she suddenly said, her voice loud in the quiet room. It was as though she'd had to force herself to say the words.

My mind had wandered so much during the break in our discussion that it took me a moment to get back on track.

"In college?" I asked.

"Well, before then, but yes. In college. And after."

"While you were married," I stated, although it seemed logical to me. Why wouldn't she? She was fresh out of the academy.

"Right."

And then it clicked. I had an idea of where she was going.

"And…he wanted you to stop?"

"He thought I _had_ stopped," she corrected.

"You weren't ready to have kids," I said. "That's understandable. You were just getting started with the department."

"Bobby, I kept taking them without telling him," she insisted as though I should think less of her for this admission.

Did she think I would be upset with her? Did she think I wouldn't understand? Kids were a huge decision and both people involved had to be completely sure about it.

I stayed quiet for a moment and then slowly let out a breath. I was afraid that I might say the wrong thing, but the only thing I could do was be honest.

"Did you try to tell him you weren't ready?"

She told me about Joe's plans for a big family with her being a stay-at-home mom. Why would she have gone through the academy if that was what she wanted? He must not have listened to her at all.

"He rarely did," she agreed when I said that out loud.

I guessed that maybe the birth control pills had caused the fight. I was stunned to learn that Joe had been unfaithful, too.

Not only did I not understand why a man would cheat on any woman, but why would one cheat on _Alex_? Didn't his commitment mean anything to him?

But I couldn't say that to her. She was hurting, and listening to me rail against the injustices of adulterers wasn't what she needed to hear.

"Alex," I said softly, pulling her even closer to me. "I'm so sorry."

And I was. My heart hurt for her, thinking about what she'd gone through. How painful that must have been to have the man she loved turn to another woman. What kind of damage had that done to her self-esteem? Even someone as confident and secure as Alex must have suffered from such a betrayal.

My thoughts disintegrated when she slid her hand across my chest and held it over my heart. I gave an internal sigh.

_What I wouldn't give for this to be my life_.

"He yelled at me, said I'd been lying to him. That set me off because I knew that he'd been lying to me for quite awhile. Things were said, things that neither of us got the chance to take back."

"Were you guys fighting a lot?" I asked, although I couldn't help but be upset by the thought of him yelling at her. And yeah, I know, married people fight. That didn't make the visual easier to take.

"Just for the last year. I think…I was never sure, but I think that maybe he was…you know he was working Narcotics, right?"

Narcotics. I knew a little bit about that.

Frighteningly high percentages of Narcotics officers became involved in drugs. It was just a fact.

I attributed my ability to abstain to my own brother's addiction.

"You think he was into drugs?" I asked carefully.

"I never found any. And he didn't have any in his system when he was killed. But he changed. That last year, things were different. _He_ was different. That was when the affairs started, and he would go off on me for no reason. That was when I stopped being happy."

Things went fuzzy after she said _go off on me_. I know I shouldn't think ill of the dead, but…if I found out he had ever laid a hand on her…

But I had to stay calm. She was talking freely and I didn't want my emotions to change that.

"Go off on you," I repeated carefully. "Did he ever hit you?"

She said that he hadn't and I believed her, but just the idea had my heart racing. It wasn't like I could do anything about it now, even if she'd said yes, but…not much infuriated me more than a wife-beater.

I forced myself to settle down. There was a point to this conversation, and we were getting to the heart of it. She had been reluctant for me to look into Joe's case. And he had been doing drugs. That opened up another possibility.

"You were afraid we would find something when the investigation was re-opened. You thought maybe he was dirty?" I asked her, hoping she would say no.

And really, I didn't think that was the case because I found it hard to believe that Alex would be party to a dirty cop cover-up.

If Joe _had_ been dirty, she would've arrested him herself.

So her answer of no wasn't a surprise. Although her reason for being upset about the investigation was. She didn't want me to know? Because she thought I'd blame her?

"It was his choice to go," I replied quietly. "You're not responsible for his choices. If he had stayed home to talk to you instead of leaving…"

"He called me a cold bitch. I told him to get the hell out." _A cold bitch_? That told me that Joe didn't know her at all. He was lucky all she'd done was tell him to get out. She might've just as easily put his balls in a vice.

She told me about the perception of the department, and something began to slowly dawn on me. She didn't correct them about thinking it was a storybook marriage…it was good for awhile and then it wasn't…maybe I did have a misconception about Joe.

But I'd come back to that. I couldn't have her feeling bad for perpetuating the illusion created after his death.

"There's nothing wrong with that. You respected his memory. You know that what he'd turned into wasn't really him. And you also know that you're not at fault for what happened to him after he walked out the door."

She nodded, and I thought that maybe, just maybe she believed me. Maybe she was starting to realize that it wasn't her fault. And while I was rejoicing in that progress, she mentioned making a call.

"That's been my dirty little secret. I called a lawyer as soon as he left. I was going to divorce him."

I noticed that she didn't breathe after she said it. I know this because I didn't either.

She had been planning to divorce him?

So even if he hadn't been killed, then she wouldn't be with him now?

He wasn't the man by whom all future men would be measured?

And then I realized that although neither of us was breathing, we each had different reasons.

Me…I was in shock. I was – slightly and probably inappropriately – elated.

But she…somehow I knew that she was waiting to see if I was disappointed in her. I don't know why my opinion mattered, but it did.

How best to let her know? Would simple, reassuring words do it?

And then I had a better idea.

"I have a dirty secret of my own," I told her, finding the courage in me somewhere to lean down closer and kiss the top of her head.

If she was going to bare her soul, then so was I.

"You do?" she asked unsteadily.

I kissed her head a second time just because I could. And then I told her.

"It's possible that Mark Ford Brady is my father."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**********A/N: Hmmm...let's see. What was I going to say here? Oh yeah - both POV's cover roughly the same time period, so when it switches to Bobby, it starts over again. **

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**Alex POV**

To say that I was in complete and utter shock would be a gross understatement. For a moment, I was literally struck mute.

I wanted desperately to turn and look at him. I wanted to see his face, to look into his eyes, to gage his feelings about his declaration.

But he had afforded me the luxury of confessing my sins under the cover of darkness, so to speak. I should give him the same respect.

But I really needed to see his face.

"Can I turn around?" I asked him.

"Why, so you can see if I have the face of a killer?"

"Bobby…"

"Turn around," he said on a sigh.

I turned around and sat on my knees on the couch, facing him, and gathered up enough nerve to put my hand on his cheek. That wonderfully scruffy cheek…I gently put pressure on his face until he turned to look me in the eye.

He was clearly ashamed. And he'd completely misread my reaction.

Because I wasn't shocked with what he said, only that he'd said it.

"Do you know how much it means to me that you told me about this?"

And now it was his turn to be surprised.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I did."

"It doesn't bother you that I could be…could be…his…son?"

"No. It only bothers me that it bothers you."

Because it really didn't make any difference to me. And to be honest, I had already suspected as much. I'm a good detective. I can read between the lines with the best of them.

I knew something was going on with him during the Brady case. I knew it was personal, so I kept my distance.

I thought that if he wanted me to know, then he would come to me.

Right. _Because Bobby was always so forthcoming_, I thought sarcastically.

Of course, it wasn't like I shared much either.

I hadn't gone to him tonight when I needed to talk. If he hadn't shown up at my door, I'd be passed out cold by now.

Alone.

And tomorrow I would feel just as guilty and miserable as I felt today.

But now I felt different. And Bobby was different, too.

Because tonight hadn't been about him. He'd come to listen to my problems. He didn't have to share anything about himself.

So why did he? Did he want to put us on even ground? Did his uncertainty about his parentage compare to my hidden desire to divorce my husband prior to his death?

It didn't matter. It wasn't a competition. The thing was that he cared enough to share the personal aspects of his life.

And for me, just being able to tell him the truth about my marriage with Joe…my feelings of guilt were already starting to go away.

It didn't make me a bad person that I had been seeking a divorce. It didn't make me responsible for what had happened to him. It just meant that I was unhappy in my marriage and had been searching for a solution.

And keeping that a secret from the world, well…it didn't hurt anyone. No one needed to know the truth about Joe except for me. And Bobby.

Because it mattered to both of us.

I needed to quit feeling guilty and he needed to quit feeling as though he would never be good enough for me.

Because I realized now that he did have feelings for me, emotions that he was keeping a tight rein on.

The fact that he had kissed me – twice – prior to sharing his secret had not escaped me. It had sent a pleasant warmth throughout my body, a sensation of being cherished, of being treasured.

I hadn't felt like that in a long time.

"Do you want to find out?" I asked him calmly as I continued to stroke his cheek.

My revelation had given me a newfound courage.

_He was here with me_.

It was pushing four o'clock in the morning, and he was sitting with me just trying to make me feel better. He'd revealed a piece of himself that I was quite sure no one else alive was privy to.

"Yes," he replied. And then he tilted his head and looked at me quizzically. "You were really going to divorce Joe?"

"Yes."

"So you don't still love him. You weren't still in love with him then."

It was starting to sink in with him, and I felt even more confident about my theory that he did have feelings for me that he was simply holding back.

I smiled at him encouragingly.

"No," I told him. And then because I didn't want to lose sight of his concern, I added, "Do you think knowing will make a difference?"

"Why haven't you found someone else?" he asked me, ignoring my question. He moved his hand so that it now rested on my thigh. I could feel the heat through the cotton fabric.

"It's not like I haven't been looking."

"Have you? Been looking?"

"Okay, so not really. I wasn't sure if I deserved it," I admitted. "But I am happy with my life."

"You are? You wouldn't want anything to change?"

"We were talking about you."

"Do I think that knowing will make a difference? You tell me."

"I can understand that you would want to know. Now that you know it's a possibility, you'll keep thinking about it until you find out for sure. But will it make a difference? Not one damn bit. It won't change who you are and it sure as hell won't change how I feel about you."

He continued to stare at me long after I finished talking and I started to wonder if I had crossed the line.

_The line_.

Was there even still a line?

And if so, hadn't we crossed it already?

When we'd hugged?

When I'd kissed him?

When we'd sat so close together on the couch and bared our souls?

"How _do_ you feel about me?" he asked.

This was it. This was what the whole night had boiled down to.

**

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**

Bobby POV

After I said the words, I had a moment of fear.

I'd made my confession so that she didn't feel so alone, so exposed. I wanted her to know something of me that no one else knew, since now I knew something private about her.

I just wanted to make her feel better.

But would it backfire? What if it appalled her to think of the possibility that I had Brady's blood flowing through me? Hell, it appalled me. I didn't want it to be true. How could I expect her to accept it?

Of course, the man I knew to be my father, my mother's husband…having his blood in me wasn't much better, so I guess that bar was set pretty low already.

And then she asked me if she could turn around.

I appreciated the respect. I had allowed her to confess without looking at me, so she would offer me the same privilege if I chose.

I knew she wanted to get a read on me. _Right_? Or did she want to know if she could see _him_ in my eyes?

I agreed to let her turn around. I would never deny her anything.

She sat on her knees beside me, her thigh once again pressing against mine. I kept my eyes focused downward, but then she put her hand on my cheek and guided my head up so that she could look me in the eye.

The feeling of her palm against my face was indescribable.

But would this be the first and only time? I prayed that it wouldn't, but I also didn't know what she was thinking. I didn't know what she would see when she looked at me with this new information.

"Do you know how much it means to me that you told me about this?" she said gently.

What? Did she not hear what I said? _Fucking Mark Ford Brady_.

Maybe she _didn't_ hear me. Maybe I could pretend I never said it out loud.

But no. Then we'd be back to where we were before.

And I didn't want to go backwards.

I wanted to go forward.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I did."

"It doesn't bother you that I could be…could be…his…son?"

How could she be so calm? How could she be so understanding? I was still working hard to come to terms with it myself, and yet she wasn't concerned about it at all.

"No. It only bothers me that it bothers you."

Her hand kept stroking my face and the sensations were causing me conflicting emotions.

We were having this very deep, very personal conversation. She was sitting so close, practically molded against my leg. She was caressing my face as though she were my lover.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't conflicted. Maybe I was just beginning to see the light.

I had made her happy simply by opening up to her.

Is that all I'd needed to do all these years? Talk to her?

See, I'd thought I was protecting her and protecting myself. If I shared my demons, then they became hers, too. And maybe then it would make her see me differently. It might make her think less of me. It was a risk that until now I'd been unwilling to take.

But what I'd failed to realize was that she had her own crosses to bear. And knowing her perceived shortcomings didn't make me think less of her. Because I loved her. So learning these details only made her more real. And it made me love her even more.

Is that what she was feeling? Maybe.

I wasn't sure just yet, but I was hopeful.

The fact that we were sitting here together at damn near dawn was a good sign. She hadn't kicked me out when I'd hugged her. Quite the contrary. She'd kissed me. I still wasn't over that. I would be replaying that memory for weeks.

Unless of course, she kissed me again.

Then I'd have two visions to shuffle between. Not to mention the fact that a second kiss would mean…something. It would mean that she'd liked the first one enough to want to do it again.

One time was a whim.

A second time would be a calculated risk.

And I wasn't sure, but the way she was looking at me made me feel like it wasn't that remote of a possibility.

She didn't care if Brady was my father.

And she'd wanted to divorce Joe.

Both of these facts were monumental.

"Do you want to find out?" she asked me. I could tell by the way she asked me that she already knew the answer. I did want to know. I was afraid to know, but at the same time I was afraid not to.

It's a pretty crappy feeling to be afraid of both options.

But it did ease my anxiety just knowing I could talk to her about it. I'd been shoving it down inside of me for only a few weeks and it was already eating me up. Letting it out was a relief.

"Yes," I told her.

But as important as discussing Brady was to me, I was still obsessing about her confession to me. I had to make sure that I wasn't crazy. I had to make sure that I had a firm grasp of the situation. "You were really going to divorce Joe?"

"Yes."

I felt even more hope surge through me, but I still had to push it. I needed more clarification. I need to be absolutely sure. Because if she was saying what I thought she was saying…well, it changed my whole perspective.

"So you don't still love him. You weren't still in love with him then."

She smiled at me and said that no, she wasn't in love with him by the end of their marriage.

And then she tried to turn it back to me. I should've known that she wouldn't let me off the hook about my own issues.

"Do you think knowing will make a difference?" she asked me.

But I wasn't ready to be dissuaded just yet.

"Why haven't you found someone else?" I asked. And then because I felt a rush of confidence, I took a chance. She would either slap me, or…not.

I moved my hand off of my own leg and settled it onto her thigh. _Mid-way_ _up_ on her thigh. It looked huge sitting there on her leg, and it made me wish irrationally that there wasn't a layer of fabric between us.

_Settle down, Goren_, I chastised myself. It wasn't like I was going to be seeing her naked.

_Not tonight anyway_, I amended with an internal grin. Was it possible that maybe someday I would?

Someday soon?

"It's not like I haven't been looking," she told me, bringing my thoughts back to reality.

I knew I'd interrupted some dates in the past, but not too many. And none recently.

She wasn't looking.

I called her out on it.

"Okay, so not really. I wasn't sure if I deserved it," she admitted.

She didn't deserve it? Please. She deserved to be treated like a queen. She deserved the best of everything. She deserved…better than me.

My mind flashed back to how sad and lonely she had seemed when I first came over, and then I realized that heartbreaking expression was gone.

I had made it go away.

Maybe I _was_ good for her.

"But I am happy with my life," she added.

"You are? You wouldn't want anything to change?"

"We were talking about you," she reminded me, avoiding my question.

We were talking about me? Really?

I was having trouble focusing on anything but the feel of her thigh under my palm. And the feeling of her hand still on my face. I was tingling at both points of contact.

And I was probably going to have to start running through some more statistics pretty soon or I was going to embarrass myself.

Now what was the question again?

Oh yeah. Would knowing the truth make a difference? The most important thing to me was whether it would matter to her. So I asked her.

"I can understand that you would want to know. Now that you know it's a possibility, you'll keep thinking about it until you find out for sure. But will it make a difference? Not one damn bit. It won't change who you are and it sure as hell won't change how I feel about you."

How she feels about me? How is that? She's going to say something like that and then not elaborate?

I stared at her, waiting for her to say more. I was on edge.

This could be it. This was where we'd been heading all along.

And surprisingly, I wasn't scared.

This was Eames.

She was my best friend.

She'd stuck by me through some of the worst moments of my life, even sometimes when I'd tried to run her off just to save her from getting sucked down with me. She was steadfast. She was loyal.

_She_ _was who I dreamed about at night_.

And sure, I could let her comment go. It was stated in such a fashion that I could either acknowledge it or not.

She was apprehensive. She was unsure about my feelings, so she'd thrown me a slow-pitch and now she was waiting to see if I'd take it or swing away.

I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass me by.

"How _do_ you feel about me?"

I watched her face as she weighed her response. But the coloring of her cheeks and her quick breathing gave me my answer.

_She loved me_.

I left my one hand in its treasured spot on her leg, but I brought my other one up to her check. I rubbed my palm against her smooth skin and let my fingers mingle into her hair.

I let my eyes wander down to her mouth and then back up again. I wanted her to know my intention.

I leaned in slowly, giving her the chance to back away if she wanted to.

Instead, she met me in the middle.

Our second kiss.

**The END**

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**A/N: Well, that's it. If you liked it, thank Mitzvahgirl for giving me the required kick in the ass (she literally _chastised_ me!).**

**If you didn't like it, blame her too. Oh, no wait...um, if you didn't like it...flame on!**


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